


The Things You Remember

by duckyoga



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Depression, Ghost Wilbur - Freeform, Guilt, Hurt No Comfort, Memories, Memory Loss, l'manburg, the major character death is wilbur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27650681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckyoga/pseuds/duckyoga
Summary: Wilbur is dead. The battle is over. L'Manburg is destroyed and the remaining characters are broken and trying to rebuild. Now that Wilbur's a ghost, he doesn't remember what happened, so he keeps a little journal to help him out. One day, he'll make it up to them. One day things will all go back to normal. One day.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61





	The Things You Remember

**Author's Note:**

> **All tagged ships are strictly platonic! Do not ship any real people these are just block characters and block politics. This is based off of the book Wilbur revealed on Tommy's stream today! The stream is called Payback, timestamp around 01:07:25 when they start talking about Wilbur's books. Thank you for reading and have a great day!**

It hurt. That’s the one thing that Wilbur can remember in the beginning. So much pain, accompanied by an overwhelming feeling of ecstasy. Finally, it was over. But, what was over? Wilbur couldn’t remember anymore. It didn’t matter anyways. It was over.

In the beginning, it was cold. Dark. Silent. Wilbur felt so alone and so unimaginably angry. Everything was just too much and not enough all at once. He couldn’t feel anything anymore. He couldn’t smell, couldn’t taste, he could barely even remember his own name. He just felt lonely. Like he was drowning in an endless expanse of open ocean, nothing but freezing cold and pitch black waters churning underneath him. Wilbur was so angry and cold and lonely. God, he was so lonely.

Slowly but steadily, his senses began to return to him. Flashes of memories, good and bad, ran across his mind in brief spurts. It was like watching the tide roll in and out, occasionally leaving behind something gorgeous as it slowly eroded everything else. So powerful, and Wilbur felt like he was helpless to do anything but watch. He was no longer in control, he was just an observer in his own ‘body.’

The first thing Wilbur could remember was the smell of bread. It was strange and all of a sudden. Wilbur was roaming aimlessly around strange large craters that he couldn’t quite remember how they came to be. He assumed it must have been important at one point, but now all he felt was emptiness as he looked over the craters and the ruins of various buildings.

It was as he was roaming when he came across a bakery of sorts. Just a shack among all the ruins. In the very back of his mind he could almost remember a promise centering around these baked goods, cake and cookies, things he hadn’t experienced in….he wasn’t sure how long. But that memory was just out of reach and right now, all Wilbur could do was bask in the warm smell of fresh baked bread. 

After that, things slowly began to come back to him. This time it was less of a tide and more of lightning flashes. His mind was a storm in turmoil and every once in a while a memory would flash across his mind followed by something else, but he could only ever see glimpses of it. The first thing concrete that flashed across his mind was a word. L’Manburg. Next, the Revolution. An entire world, entire wars, and Wilbur was left in the dark.

L’Manburg was a touchy subject with Wilbur mentally. He couldn’t actually speak to anyone one about it, but from the images that flashed in his mind and the strong wave of emotions that followed it, he could only imagine the pain that this L’Manburg must have caused. He could grasp small concepts about it and the ensuing revolution. So much betrayal and work all destroyed by… by someone. He could remember the tall walls of L’Manburg and the flag that was built with such love and care. He also remembered the walls being torn down, the flag burned and the feeling of complete and utter shock.

The things that came next were people. Faces. The first was a child. In the memories, this kid seemed almost like family, like a baby brother. He had unruly blonde hair and bright blue eyes. His laugh was infectious and this kid was so damn good and his heart was so full, but Wilbur couldn’t remember ever telling him he was proud of him. Proud of how this small kid has matured far past the lengths that Wilbur had ever imagined. Proud of how, despite an entire country standing against them, this kid still stood up for his own. But Wilbur’s memory only went so far. There were gaps and holes, times that Wilbur can’t remember completely. He can only remember the emotions he felt. Rage, despair, anger that this insolent brat wouldn’t just let go. Just let it all go. Wilbur felt unhinged. And then nothing. That was as far as his memory went.

The next face that came was his brother. At least that’s what Wilbur assumed he was. He could see them as children, sparing together outside of his father’s house. Even back then, the kid that he fought with was full of poise and conviction. His short pink hair flew through the air as he struck down blow after blow, never losing a fight against Wilbur. It brought Wilbur a sense of peace. Tranquility. That was a better time, before everything happened. 

The next memories came in sort of waves. As he wandered the ruins aimlessly he could remember the wind on his face as he looked down upon a grateful nation. He remembered being president of L’Manburg, determined to create a safe place for him and his friends to live, outside of the tyranny the rest of the world tried to impose. He remembered all of the support he got, the people cheering for him as he and that child, Tommy, took their places as President and Vice President of L’Manburg. 

He remembered his child. He had a son. Albeit it was a strange feeling to have a son, he had one nonetheless. Those memories filled him with a swell of pride as he remembered his son growing up before his eyes. He remembered the hurt he felt when his son betrayed him, but a father could never truly hate their child. When he looked at his son, all he could feel was pride.

The next person he remembered was a girl. Niki. There were a lot of conflicting feelings around her, but the one that stood out the most was a feeling of safety. Remembering Niki felt almost like remembering home. She felt like safety and security. While most of his memories of Niki were of the soft spoken girl who only wanted to spread love and positivity, he also remembered her fiercely defending her own. Standing up against a tyrannical ruler who ousted him and Tommy, he can remember the passion that Niki had. Remembering Niki was remembering home.

The next memories were all around L’Manburg. He remembered a van, a strange shape on the top, and all of the things that they sold from it. He remembered the van with almost a nostalgic sort of happiness, like an old person fondly remembering their youth. But he never got the chance to grow old.

He remembered various moments in time, like stills taken out of another world. He remembered a young boy, Tubbo, constructing everything in both L’Manburg and Manburg. He remembered being in awe at the great structures he built. He remembered his father, Phil protecting him. He remembered Phil with a sort of bitter fondness, but he couldn’t quite remember why the bitterness was there. He remembered Sally the salmon with another twinge of bitterness. He would always hold some love for his ex-wife and the mother of his child, but it would never be the same. He didn’t like remembering her as much as he liked remembering the feeling of having a complete family while she was there

In between all of these memories of both good and bad, friends and enemies and all of the conflicts that they had, Wilbur couldn’t remember his death. He couldn’t remember the feeling of dying. That is, until he returned to a little hole in the side of a blown out mountain. Lyrics written on various signs were discarded on the ground, splinters of wood covering the floor. Wilbur's eyes, however, were not focused on the broken state of the room. He was instead focused on the deep patch of dark crimson blood in the corner. That one sight, the dried blood loosely flaking off and being carried off by the wind, was what unleashed the flood.

In an instant Wilbur remembered almost everything that led up to his death. He remembered the feeling of determination as he marched down to the bunker, surrounded by lyrics of his own song. He remembered staring the button down, the imminent destruction of his entire nation, what they had worked so hard to get back, mere seconds away. He remembered turning around and almost faltering at the sight. Phil was there, standing behind him. But it was too late. Wilbur’s resolve had been decided long before his father decided to show up again. Long before anything could be changed. This was his destiny. This was his fate. It was practically written in the stars, there was no escaping this. He remembered the press of the button, the wood cool against his fingertips which were blazing with intensity. He remembered the feeling of ecstasy. Just pure and total ecstasy. And then it was all over.

It all was over in less than a second. Wilbur watched from his corner the total destruction of his nation. In that moment, Wilbur looked around at the devastation he had created. The cries of disbelief and shock and one of pure joy rung out around him. They all mixed with the ringing of his ears. The taste of salt and the air in his lungs were the only thing that reminded him he was alive. He was still alive and it was over. He did it. The next thing he remembered was looking over at his father, a wild look of pure joy in his eyes, and a look of complete and total horror in his father’s eyes. They stared at each other for a moment before Wilbur saw his father’s face harden, a single, silent tear rolling down his face as he schooled his emotions back into place.

The next thing he remembered was pain. A burning sensation rippled throughout his body. Instantly he collapsed to the ground, covered in soot and dust as he looked up at his father with wild eyes. He could feel his blood draining slowly out of him, but nothing felt real in that moment. He felt like he was floating. Even staring at his own hand covered in his own blood, he couldn’t believe he was actually about to die. He looked up at his father who loomed over him one last time. He could almost make out the words that his father was whispering, a silent apology, a promise to do better maybe, before the sword was plunged back into Wilbur’s chest and the world went dark.

Those emotions took a while to process and work through. Even while dead, Wilbur was still brimming with emotions, but he couldn’t really feel any of them. It was like the beginning again, he was drowning in a wave of his own emotions but it was so cold and dark that he couldn’t feel anything anymore. Slowly, he remembered other details. He remembered winning the election with his friend (if he could still call him that, there were a lot of mixed emotions regarding him). He remembered a ravine. Building a safe space for him and his friends to escape to once they were exiled from all else. He remembered Techno’s armory, how much that small, fierce child had grown up alongside him so quickly. The man was a beast at this point, totally dedicated to whatever cause opposed the government. He never wavered from his ideals.

The last few things were just remnants of his past. He remembered books. He started keeping a collection of them in his small library in the sewers. It wasn’t much, but Wilbur was hoping that with time more memories would come back. However small or menial, he just hoped to get more than a couple passing glances at them, hoping for some of his memories to stick around long enough for him to really enjoy it. Bask in all the emotions it brings with. He remembered their long and extensive tunnels running underneath the ground from their safe place all the way back to their old home. He remembered arrows. Skies and chests alike full of arrows. Some meant to help and some searching to hit their targets. He remembered arrows with rockets, loud explosions and betrayals following. 

There wasn’t much else that Wilbur remembered. Bits and pieces here and there, but nothing that particularly stood out. He started writing these memories down, just in case they won’t last. Maybe then he can look back at this and learn them all over again. Some memories are more pleasant than others, and some bring back so much pain and mixed emotions, he’s not sure how he survived them in the first place.

The memories trickle in slower these days, so Wilbur just spends his time aimlessly wandering. Most of his time is spent trailing behind after his brother. It’s almost out of instinct at this point to just follow along and watch what his brother is doing. He never says anything, just observes and quietly hopes that his death doesn’t sit too heavily on his heart. Most days he tries to avoid his father, Phil. The emotions there are just too complicated. Even as a ghost Wilbur doesn’t have the emotional capacity to unravel all of that pain. On both sides. Sometimes, his mind will drift back to faint memories of them as children with Phil, the ever vigilant father, always looking over them. Even back then Phil’s hair was turning grey from dealing with all of his very independent children.

Sometimes, Wilbur decides to attempt to be around Tommy, his partner in crime. He feels almost a sense of responsibility for the child. He was forced to grow up so much quicker than most children his age. Regardless of what life threw at him, or how much Wilbur attempted to push him away, Tommy always bounced back. He always stayed. That was one thing Wilbur could never fault Tommy on, his unwavering loyalty. As Wilbur watches Tommy, there’s one thing that he feels almost guilty for. In the young man’s eyes there’s always a hint of anger or pain. Wilbur feels a sensation as close to guilt as he can, being dead and all. He knows that he destroyed Tommy’s trust. He just hopes that he hasn’t done irreparable damage.

The sun rises and sets on the craters dotting the land that was once L’Manburg. Wilbur just continues to roam, aimlessly. He is completely consumed by the ever growing feeling of just emptiness. There is nothing left for him, so Wilbur vows to create something again. While Wilbur can’t completely remember everything that led up to the destruction of L’Manburg, all he knows is that he doesn't feel those feelings anymore. He doesn't have all of the rage that he once held harbored inside his battle hardened body. He’s free now, and he doesn't want the only mark that he has left on this earth to be one of pain and resentment. So he starts to rebuild. 

It is slow at first, built on stilts that rise out of the craters of what once was L’Manburg, but slowly it starts to take form. A little watermill overlooking the new buildings. Lanterns floating gracefully in the sky. Maybe it will never be the same. Maybe it will never be enough to replace the hole that Wilbur created, but it is better than nothing. It is better than just sitting in the middle of that dark, cold ocean continuously being swallowed by wave after wave of angry, swirling emotions. It is better than just waiting around to slowly wither away. And for now, that will have to be enough.


End file.
